


Saints and Sinners Alike

by rokkakudou



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-16 00:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17539358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokkakudou/pseuds/rokkakudou
Summary: Their encounter fated one early spring, Hijiri Byakuren and Toyosatomimi no Miko find themselves walking a shared path year after year. Whether that path leads to redemption or perdition is something they will have to discover together. (Rating will increase. Characters will be tagged as they appear in the story.)





	1. Harbored in Spring

A loud thump of shoes on thick planking disrupted the whistle of icy wind high in the early spring sky above the sparsely snow-dotted fields and forests of Gensokyo. Five heads turned in the direction of the sound, and five pairs of eyes settled on the disheveled figure in red and white that had just joined them on the deck of a massive, gravity-defying wooden ship.

“Finally!” The word exploded from Hakurei Reimu with the full force of hours of pent-up frustration as she glared at her audience. “Now tell me,” she said, arms akimbo. “Why are you guys still flying around? Isn‘t it about time for you to go back to your little corner of Gensokyo where you can stay put and mind your own business, so that I don’t have to mind it for you?” The sharp arch of her brow dispelled any notion that she might enjoy doing so.

“We beg your pardon, Miss Reimu.” All eyes moved from the addressee to the speaker, a woman whose understated demeanor only served to magnify her imposing presence. Even bent in an apologetic bow, Hijiri Byakuren was still a full head taller than Reimu, who barely suppressed a growl at what felt like condescension in its most literal form. Straightening back up, Byakuren continued, “Murasa and the others have merely been generously indulging my desire to revel in the long-forgotten luxuries of warm sunshine and an open breeze.” She glanced fondly at the four figures behind her. Three of them smiled back; the fourth and smallest one nodded once before returning her attention to her black iron dowsing rods. Sensing more duty than disrespect, Byakuren smiled again at Nazrin before turning back to Reimu. “Ever since we emerged from Makai I feel as though I’ve been born again, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to relish the experience for a little while. But your displeasure has reminded me that as someone who has chosen to follow the way of the Buddha, I shouldn’t allow myself to cling to the fleeting pleasures of the illusory forms that reach my senses, as in doing so I have indeed brought a non-negligible amount of suffering upon you and perhaps even my companions in the form of inconvenience—”

“Look,” Reimu all but barked. “It’s not like I have a problem with you getting some air, but the first thing that any newcomer to Gensokyo does is spend most of their time getting settled into their new place, so you’ll excuse me for being more than a little suspicious when someone breaks the trend, especially someone with your reputation and oh yeah—” She raised a foot. “Your.” Stomp. “Giant.” Stomp. “Boat.” The girl brought her foot down one last time with enough force to make herself wince and the planks vibrate for several seconds.

An older-looking girl in a white sailor uniform cleared her throat and said in a voice that wavered between grin and gravitas, “This is your captain Murasa Minamitsu, speaking on behalf of the crew of the Sacred Palanquin Ship. For your safety, we recommend you not antagonize our vessel. She’s a little feisty, and not above fighting back.”

Reimu tried her best to force a snarl into a smile, before letting her expression sour entirely as an unpleasant realization struck her. “At the very least,” she grated with the last dregs of her patience, “tell me you actually have a place to live?”

“As a matter of fact,” Byakuren said, and Reimu allowed herself the faintest flicker of hope. “I used to live in a temple, but of course it no longer exists.” The hope spluttered. “I’m not too picky, though, so I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” And finally, it died, leaving only the sharp hiss of breath forced through clenched teeth.

Murasa knitted her brows in thought. “Well…  At the moment Ichirin, Shou, and I—”

“And Nazrin,” Toramaru Shou added gently with a nod to her loyal underling. The youkai mouse, however, appeared to be even more engrossed in her dowsing than before, and gave no indication that she had noticed either snub or acknowledgement.

“—And Nazrin,” Murasa said. “We all just live on this ship. Freeing you has been the only thing on our minds since we were released at the end of last year, so we never gave much thought to finding a permanent residence.”

“Oh, no.” Byakuren’s expression darkened at this fresh reminder of all the sacrifices big and small that the youkai had made for her sake. “I’m so sorry to have put you through all that trouble.”

“You didn’t put us through anything!” came the fierce and immediate protest that startled even Reimu. Murasa continued in the same urgent tone, “The only thing we cared about was seeing you again!”

“She’s absolutely right, Sister!” Kumoi Ichirin chimed in with a vigorous nod that nearly flung off her dark blue hood; a rumble of agreement issued from the large pink cloud behind her known only as Unzan. “And Shou will tell you the same thing!”

“It’s true, Hijiri!” cried the tiger-striped woman, golden eyes blazing. “We knew that we could never properly enjoy our freedom without repaying your kindness!”

Byakuren gazed upon the three faces radiant with adoration, an answering glow in her own smile. “Well, nothing wrong with being transients in a transient world...”

“By the myriad gods!” Reimu cut in before her breakfast began evicting itself. “Are all oldschool youkai this dense? For the last freaking time, you can’t just spend your lives flying around up here!” She threw her arms skyward for emphasis. “If you don’t give a damn about me, then think of—think of—” Glancing around wildly for something with which to make her point, she spotted the distant silhouette of the human village peeking over the ship’s bow. “There! You see that?” A loose white sleeve flailed in the village’s general direction. “Think of all the helpless little animals and children you’ll be depriving of that warm sunshine you were just going on about! All the plants that will wither and die in this stupidly huge shadow! I thought you Buddhists were against killing?” The shrine maiden closed out her scolding with a stern finger wag.

“We’re also against starving, which means plants are fair game,” Nazrin deadpanned with just enough impatience to suggest that she had better things to do than buy Reimu’s sudden intense concern for all of creation.

“Oh, but she’s right. Harming plants for no good reason isn’t the same as taking only what we absolutely need from them and appreciating the sacrifice they make for our sustenance.” Much to the mouse’s chagrin but not surprise, her master’s master seemed all too willing to give the shrine maiden’s theatrics the benefit of the doubt. Nazrin held her tongue hard enough to taste blood, but her eyes rolled of their own accord, earning her a reproving look from Shou that she pretended not to see as she reached for her dowsing rods and wordlessly excused herself in the direction of the bow. Her mild disappointment at her master’s decision not to follow was quickly replaced by keen focus upon the faint but unmistakable sensation of metal twisting in her hands. For the rods to react when they were surrounded by nothing but air for several ship lengths in any direction… Nazrin’s eyes narrowed as she rushed back to the group just in time to hear Byakuren’s cheerful announcement:

“In which case, why don’t we pull ashore every three days or so?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Reimu appeared to be on the verge of tearing out her hair.

“Roger that!”

“I meant you guys staying grounded permanently! Per! Ma! Nent! Lee!”

Murasa smiled indulgently at her increasingly hysterical passenger. “Ah, but if we rush the process and end up mooring in the wrong port, that would just mean more trouble for you, wouldn’t it?” The ship ghost finished with a wink.

Finally at wit’s end, the shrine maiden shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Fine! I don’t give a damn what you all do, but don’t come crying to me for mercy when I get an extermination request for this entire ship! It’ll be my pleasure to once again beat the crap out of every single one of you, and maybe finally beat some sense into you too! I won’t even need help this time!”

Murasa looked up from where she and the others had huddled in conference with Nazrin during the shrine maiden’s outburst. “And here we were thinking we could save you the trouble, by turning our vessel into a Gensokyo cruise ship.”

Reimu’s already pinched features drew even closer together in confusion. “And how exactly will that keep me from kicking your collective ass?”

“Well, the idea is that we won’t be discriminating against any passengers. Youkai, humans, anyone’s welcome aboard as long as they behave themselves.”

“And pay the fare,” Nazrin added with a sidelong glance at Reimu, who silently cursed the familiar twinge of greed that arose at the mention of steady revenue. Alas, the thought of participating even vicariously in someone else’s moneymaking scheme was too much for her to resist.

“Fine. Okay. Look.” The shrine maiden seemed to die a little with every word, but there was a certain glee in her tone all the same. “If you’re really serious about this—and not that I have any reason to help you, so you owe me big time—you might as well play up the treasure ship angle if you want half a chance of anyone showing up at all. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, we here in Gensokyo prefer to mind our own business… Unless money’s involved.”

Shou frowned her lack of confidence in Reimu’s idea at Nazrin. Ichirin’s face was also just this side of skeptical, while Murasa kept her impassive gaze trained on Byakuren. This final party appeared to mull over Reimu’s idea for moment or two before turning to the shrine maiden with visible delight.

“Miss Reimu, that’s incredibly kind of you! Although it does seem a bit out of place for Buddhists to be running a tour business, let alone one that explicitly advertises wealth, the truth is that we already have a deity of fortune aboard,” Byakuren said as she gestured to Shou, who somehow managed to both straighten sternly and grin sheepishly through her obvious bewilderment. “And it would honestly be rude of us to not give due consideration to such a generous act of unsolicited goodwill.”

Five mouths hung partly open, one of which was Reimu’s.

“So… You’ll do it?” she managed at last, tone high with the same disbelief written on four other faces.

“Of course!”

Another solid minute of silence followed Byakuren’s bright chirp of assent. Murasa was the first to emerge from her nonplussed stupor. “If it’s what Hijiri wants, then as the captain of this fair vessel, I say it’s time we got the old girl dressed to make a killing!” Catching Byakuren’s frown at the last word, Murasa hastily mouthed a “not literally” and was relieved to see the return of the monk’s cheerful composure as the latter clapped her hands and said, “That settles it!” Their combined enthusiasm soon spread to Ichirin and Shou, and Nazrin saw no reason to disagree with an idea that was at worst still unlikely to interfere with their original plans.

“All right, then listen up because I’ve got a lot of pointers for you and I’m not going to repeat myself.” Reimu’s trademark mix of smugness and irritation could not hide the sparkle in her eyes.

A soft thud and small cloud of dust were all that indicated the ship’s graceful landing within easy walking distance of the human village. Despite the quiet arrival, humans and youkai soon began flooding out of the village toward the vessel, unable to resist the literal promise of “treasure” shining in bold red paint from edge to edge of the Sacred Palanquin’s single massive sail.

The crew had agreed that as the captain of the ship, Murasa would be the first to welcome visitors aboard the newly-established Gensokyo Treasure Tours. Byakuren would then follow up with her own welcome and reassurances of safety for all the guests, while Ichirin and Unzan stood by as security in case of any particularly rowdy customers. Shou would be the last to appear as the highlight of group, in full Bishamonten regalia with pagoda and spear to fully sell the treasure aspect. Nazrin estimated that this would give them just enough time to confirm her suspicions.

“This way, Master.” Pulling out her dowsing rods, Nazrin exited through the side of the ship opposite the one facing the stream of guests.

Shou followed at an easy pace behind the mouse youkai, taking one step for every two of Nazrin’s. After over a millennium together, Shou had finally gotten used to thinking of the mouse as her underling, but the knowledge that Nazrin had been serving the real Bishamonten before Shou even came into existence still lingered in the back of the tiger youkai’s mind. The distracted avatar stopped just short of stepping on said underling’s tail when the latter suddenly dropped to one knee.

“Here.” Her black iron rods seemed to develop a mind of their own as Nazrin waved them over the earth. “It’s strongest here, although…” Nazrin swept her eyes around the general vicinity of the ship. “This entire patch of land is filled with the same presence. Can you feel any of it?”

Although she did not have Nazrin’s sensitivity, when Shou concentrated she could indeed feel something pushing back at her through the earth. Her placid features sharpened with concern as she remembered Nazrin’s use of the word “presence”.

“And you said you felt this from all the way up there, when we were barely within sight of the village?”

Nazrin nodded. “Not enough to tell it was a presence, but yes.” Her eyes met her master’s in an unspoken decision.

In their haste to report back to the ship, neither noticed the crack in a nearby boulder seal itself back up.

Even the inside of a boulder, Kaku Seiga decided, was far more pleasant than the stale, musty darkness of the underground mausoleum. Sure, her favorite person was inside, but that didn’t mean she had to leash herself like a dog to its master’s bedside just to watch said person take a long nap, unlike a certain someone whose presence was now announced by a faint green glow.

“My esteemed Lady Tojiko!” Seiga curtsied with a practiced grace that extended to the elegant flutter of the veil across her shoulders.

“You.” The ghost known as Soga no Tojiko did not return the gesture.

Seiga’s mouth tilted upward in a brief pout, before immediately curling into a coy smile. “Lady Tojiko, I have the funniest little story for you today!”

Tojiko’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ll never guess what I saw just now, right above Her Highness’s resting place!”

Tojiko said nothing.

Seiga giggled. “Vermin!”

An admittedly unexpected answer. “Vermin?”

“Yes, literal vermin, like an actual rat! And a larger rat, with tiger stripes!”

“So… A rat, and a tiger-striped larger rat. Anything else?” The ghost was used to Seiga’s tall tales, and dared the hermit to make this latest one as absurd as possible.

“Oh yes! So much else! Too much else!” Seiga paused to allow for another fit of giggles. “There’s an entire ship of them, and they’ve landed just above us!” And then she collapsed into breathless laughter that ended only when a bolt of lightning came dangerously close to searing off her glossy blue curls. The hermit shot Tojiko a deeply wounded look as she began tending to her new set of split ends.

“Now it’s your turn to shut up and listen, Continental.” The infamous Curse of Soga was only too happy to remind the Chinese hermit not to underestimate the vengeful spirits of the Land of the Rising Sun. “If you’re not just being full of shit right now, and even so much as a single word of what you said is true, then we must hasten the—”

“Oh no!” Seiga looked positively scandalized as she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh no, no, no.” With every “no,” the hermit wiggled a slender index finger within dangerous distance of the other woman’s bared teeth, as though daring an uncivilized feral of Yamato to bite. “There is no ‘hastening’ in Taoism. All things in due time, as per the natural course of events.” She paused just long enough to smile at Tojiko’s tightening expression. “You see, the only way to move the universe is to move with it. _Wu wei_ , action in inaction—”

The ghost cut Seiga off with a snarl. “What the hell is your—”

“Point?” Seiga’s tone was so mild as to sound almost apologetic. Almost. “My point, good Lady Tojiko, is that for all we know, they’re just passing rabble that will not ultimately factor into our plans.”

Tojiko sneered. “You really fucking expect me to believe that’s your honest opinion? That’s lazy, even for you.”

“Heaven forbid!” Seiga almost sounded genuinely horrified. Almost. “I was simply hoping that the cleverest daughter of the legendary Soga clan that masterminded the entire reign of the mighty Empress Suiko and her exceedingly capable regent”—Tojiko bristled as Seiga’s head inclined ever so slightly in the direction of an intricately-carved sarcophagus—“would see the value in continuing to move with patience and prudence for the time being.”

Tojiko’s laugh was vicious. “It’s a shame that for all your big talk, you never had the guts to show up at the imperial court. I would have paid good money to see you go up against Asuka’s sleaziest, and it’s not like any of them would’ve been able to smell the Continental bitch beneath the familiar stench of shameless boot-licking treachery.”

“Oh, Lady Tojiko!” Seiga pressed a dainty hand to her chest. “I dare not accept such high praise.” Tilting her head downward, she gazed through her long lashes at the ghost, who felt phantom bile rise in her throat. It took everything Tojiko had to remain silent as Seiga continued. “The truth is, I’m not nearly as good at lying as I perhaps should be.” The hermit let out a small sigh. “I know you think I’m as vile as the members of your father’s old court, but I’m afraid I have yet to live up to your expectations of me. The fact remains that as slimy and slippery as I sound, as unctuous and untrustworthy as you find my words, in the end that little grain of truth in them always ends up poking through.”

Tojiko bit back a retort and raised an eyebrow instead.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Tojiko, that even if Lady Futo and the Crown Prince were to awaken at full power right this moment, we still wouldn’t have enough information about our enemies to adequately predict their next moves and defeat them without potentially forcing the hand of more powerful groups that we’re not yet prepared to handle?”

This much Tojiko had anticipated. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Seiga”—she spat the title like venom—“that the sooner they awaken, the more time we’ll have to make such predictions and preparations?”

“Oh but of course! Of course. The tactical genius of the Soga clan is always one step ahead of lesser minds such as my own.”

Tojiko knew better than to presume victory.

“It’s just that…” Seiga began wringing her hands. “I’m not entirely sure if, perhaps, inducing the resurrection on our own might not, oh, how do I put this…” She worried at a bright red lip. “I beg your pardon, esteemed lady, these Taoist techniques are just so complicated, even for me…”

And there it was. The one thing that Tojiko had never managed to fully understand. The one thing that Seiga would always have over her.

“I know I shouldn’t have rushed Her Highness and Lady Futo into such a dangerous and difficult ritual without taking more time to properly understand it myself, and I have nothing but regret for my imprudence, which is why I must now insist on proceeding as slowly and cautiously as possible, to avoid adding mistake to mistake. Please, good Lady Tojiko, would you find it in your noble heart to allow me to make up in some small part for my transgressions toward those whom we both hold so dear, by taking a bit more time with the ritual?”

The ghost said nothing, and Seiga recognized the concession.

“I’m so glad we’ve reached an understanding! Don’t worry, I’ll be back sooner than you think!”

And sooner than I’d like, was Tojiko’s only thought as she watched Seiga vanish just as suddenly as the hermit had arrived.

Once more, nothing stirred within the dark and silent mausoleum except a pair of green eyes that continued their centuries-long wait for their gray and gold companions to open.


	2. Temple Plans

Even after several voyages, Byakuren still found herself staring in speechless awe at the mass of humans and youkai crowded together at the edges of the ship, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they craned their necks over the low wall bordering the deck and beckoned each other to “take a look at this” or “check out that over there”. Her heart jumped into her throat every time a particularly tall or airborne youkai gave a vertically-challenged human a boost; when said humans were children, Byakuren couldn’t stop herself from rushing over in a panic, only to watch as the young humans were returned unharmed to their completely unfazed parents every single time. The closest thing to interspecies conflict came only when humans or youkai started picking on their own kind, and watchful members of the other group stepped in. After a few initial bluffed threats at the interlopers, the bullies would always back down once they were outnumbered by annoyed passengers from both groups. Only one of these conflicts briefly required the involvement of Unzan’s giant pink fists.

Nonetheless, Byakuren always felt more at ease when Reimu was aboard. The magician had long since realized that the short-tempered, violence-prone girl was in fact Gensokyo’s greatest peacekeeper precisely because her shoot-first-ask-questions-later style earned her the unconditional respect of youkai and human alike. Unfortunately for Reimu, the moment Byakuren’s anxiety subsided, it was replaced by a very different emotion that the shrine maiden found much harder to deal with.

“It honestly all still feels like a dream,” Byakuren murmured, gazing around at the passengers. Reimu flinched at the quaver in the woman’s voice, and regretted confirming her suspicions with a glance at the telltale glisten in those large, gentle eyes. Oh myriad gods, Reimu pleaded as she heard a long, shaky inhale.

“Humans, youkai, they really can change. I was just too impatient. Even the sutras say that change takes time, but I failed to heed their wisdom.”

“Eh, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Reimu could not believe she was trying to console a woman several hundred times her age. “It’s not like you could have known.”

“Indeed.” Voice steadier, Byakuren spoke with a hint of laughter. “If I had, I certainly would have waited.”

“Yeah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and all.” Reimu shrugged.

“I just…” Byakuren took another deep breath as she faced Reimu, whose stomach instantly dropped. “Miss Reimu, I really can’t thank you enough. For the advice, the help, for… all of this.” The quaver had returned, as had the glistening eyes, and Reimu once again found herself begging every god she could think of to spare her from having to watch a grown woman cry. The prayers were answered as Byakuren blinked a few times and cleared her throat before returning to her usual even cadence. “I know there’s nothing I could possibly do to repay you for allowing us to personally witness the beauty of human-youkai relations in this new world, but just as a small token of our appreciation, would…” Byakuren paused as though embarrassed. “Would you… be willing to accept a cut of our profits? It wouldn’t be right for us to keep all the money to ourselves anyway, when you helped us make it.”

Reimu’s eyes lit up at the same time that her mouth opened in an instinctive “yes”, but she trapped the word by clamping down on her bottom lip, which she continued to gnaw for several more seconds before finally reopening her mouth to scoff.

“What profits? The kind you don’t even have yet because you’ve barely been doing this for what, two days?”

“Actually, we’ve already made—”

“It’ll be weeks before you start to break even!” Reimu turned her back to Byakuren and faced the edge of the ship.

“But we—”

“So shut up!” The girl hoisted herself onto the wall. “And don’t even think about coming to me again with all this ‘profits’ or ‘money’ crap”—a slight pause—“Unless you actually have something to show for it! Which I know you won’t!” Reimu launched herself into the nearest clump of clouds before Byakuren had a chance to reply. Unable to do anything but watch the shrine maiden go, the woman allowed herself a small smile of affection for the girl who asked so much less of the world than she gave to it.

 

The dull clink of coins against wood startled Reimu from her early morning duty of trying to stare away her shrine’s last clumps of snow. Half of her immediately dismissed the sound as a hallucination, but the other half floated the increasingly convincing notion that it wouldn’t hurt to check. After all, if no one had actually showed up to donate, no one would be around to see her make a fool of herself. Not a soul was in sight when she arrived at the box, and the part of her that had known all along began kicking the rest of her for imagining that it could ever have been otherwise. Undaunted, said rest of her insisted on peering inside, only to freeze at the gleam of metal where sunlight filtered through the wooden slats. Disbelief gave way to skepticism, prompting Reimu to reach over to give the box a good shake. She had just hefted the box into her arms when the sound of a voice made her drop it with a yelp, scattering coins across the ground.

“Is this your shrine?”

Scrambling for the coins on her hands and knees, Reimu failed to register the words and spared only the barest tilt of her head toward the speaker, just enough to catch a glimpse of black and white.

“Ha, ha, very funny Marisa.” Reimu’s lip curled as she rose to her feet and tossed the last of the coins back into the box. “Your fake money spell worked, you happy?” She rounded on her addressee with a ferocious glare. “I swear to the gods, if you ever pull something like this again—” Now that she was facing the other party, Reimu noticed that “Marisa” was a lot taller than she remembered, and had very different hair shaded by a paper umbrella instead of the usual oversized hat. “Wait, you?”

“Good morning, Miss Reimu.” Byakuren smiled and waved with her free hand.

“What are you—” Reimu stopped as she found a potential answer to her own question. “Please, please for the love of the myriad gods, tell me you finally found a place to land that damn ship. Permanently.”

“The money is real, I promise,” Byakuren said. “Delivering it was one of my reasons for stopping by.”

Reimu stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed while her brain pieced together the information, at which point heat rose in her face as she stammered, “I—I thought I told you I didn’t want your money!”

“You said you didn’t want money we didn’t have, and now we do.” The woman continued to smile, and Reimu’s face grew as red as her outfit.

“Fine, be broke for all I care!” She huffed for a moment, then turned sharply to Byakuren. “Wait, you said ‘one’ of your reasons. So? What are the others?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Byakuren’s smile widened. “There’s only one other reason, really, and it’s my belief that even gods and buddhas should pay each other their respects.” The woman’s tone remained as mild and as pleasant as her expression, though Reimu was certain she caught a tinge of admonishment. The shrine maiden grunted her acknowledgment of the courtesy.

“Fair enough. Though don’t expect me to go ‘paying respects’ to your holy housepet. Now about the ship—”

“Her name is Toramaru Shou, and she is an avatar of Bishamonten, one of the—”

“Seven Gods of Fortune, I know.” Reimu paused for a moment before muttering something unintelligible.

The sly narrowing of the girl’s eyes told Byakuren everything that the mumbling had not. “Perhaps you’d like to reconsider your decision to not pay us another visit?”

“Wha—No, listen, I’m not going to go flying around all over just to look for your dumb boat again on the off chance that I might pick up some of your cat’s sheddings,” came the breathless protest. “Unless…” Reimu’s flustered tone immediately turned triumphant. “All that stuff I said finally sank into your thick skulls, and you really did find a landing spot!”

“Actually, Miss Reimu…”

The shrine maiden’s smirk twitched.

“We haven’t, yet.”

Triumph crumpled into despair, which instantly reverted to Reimu’s default state of low-boil anger.

“Yet? Just how freaking long do you plan to take? It’s like you completely forgot what I said about how suspicious it is for you all to keep flying around forever!”

“Ah, but Miss Reimu,” Byakuren said, “Weren’t you the one who gave us free advice on how to attract customers for our Gensokyo sightseeing cruises? I know I’ve said it countless times before, but that was truly kind of you, and I’d like to remind you that your ride is always free as well.”

“Ughhh.” Reimu dragged her hands down her face. “Look, listen, this isn’t about your stupid cruises. I don’t care about getting a free ride or treasure or whatever. My point is, if you guys don’t park it soon...” Reimu wracked her brains for a threat that she felt would ruffle even someone who had spent a millennium trapped in demonic miasma. “...I can’t guarantee that someone else might not come after you as well.” It was the first thing that had come to mind, but as soon as she said it, Reimu had an idea of who might very well make that threat a reality, and it was with this in mind that she added, “Someone more interested in minding other people’s business than I am.” Reimu’s eyes were serious as they met Byakuren’s, and the shrine maiden thought she caught a flash of understanding in the latter before Byakuren turned to gaze at her surroundings. Neither of them spoke as Byakuren took in the shrine grounds.

“This place… doesn’t seem to be especially popular with the worshippers, does it?” Byakuren turned back to Reimu, who now bore an uncanny resemblance to a gasping fish.

The shrine maiden’s desperately working mouth eventually produced an indignant squawk of “Excuse me?”

“Surely you can sense it as well? The displeasure of your shrine’s god.”

“The what—Wait, how do you know about my shrine’s god?”

“Well, every Shinto shrine enshrines at least one deity, and after spending a thousand years in the domain of a similar being, I’ve become somewhat naturally attuned to these types of entities.”

Reimu snorted. “Next you’ll be telling me you can hear the god talking smack about me with my ancestors.”

“I wouldn’t go that far—”

“Why do you care if my god is angry or my shrine gets visitors, anyway?”

Byakuren sighed. “I just thought that by pointing it out, maybe you would care a little bit more yourself and spend more time getting visitors instead of constantly looking for any opportunity to hunt youkai and shirk your shrine duties.”

“Tch.” She should have expected that it would always come back to Byakuren’s poor precious youkai. “Has it occurred to you that hunting youkai is part of my shrine duties? Maybe even the most important one?”

Byakuren smiled. “I would certainly concede that if it drew more visitors to your shrine and more prayers to your god…” Seeing Reimu’s jaw clench, she continued as gently as she could, “Otherwise, I’m sure your god would forgive you the occasional overlooked youkai in exchange for your efforts at potentially more effective faith-gathering methods.”

It suddenly occurred to the shrine maiden that she had no desire to waste the rest of her morning being lectured on her own job by a newcomer of a completely different religion. “You know what? If you wanna be surrounded by monsters so bad, why don’t you and your little buddies take a one-way trip back to your old place in Makai on that eyesore of a boat? Solve both your problems and mine.”

Byakuren’s brow furrowed, but all Reimu’s hopes of having finally gotten under her skin were dashed when she replied levelly, “I think you might have misunderstood, Miss Reimu. Makai isn’t my home. I used to be from here, just like Murasa and the others, and now that we’re all back, I wish to find a way for us all to continue living here in peace.”

“From here? As in Gensokyo here? Fat chance! I wasn’t born yesterday, and no one just starts out in Gensokyo without crossing the barrier.”

“Yes, Gensokyo here, and no, you weren’t born yesterday, but you also weren’t born before the barrier existed. Although I’m not originally from this specific region of Japan, it was the last place I ended up right before my sealing. The barrier was placed afterwards.”

With no evidence to counter the story, Reimu could only offer her most skeptical scowl. “So? What’s your plan for ‘living here in peace’, then?”

“Well…” Byakuren glanced around. “Seeing your lonely, empty shrine”—she ignored the low growl—“has convinced me to try my own hand at improving the spirituality of Gensokyo. And as a Buddhist, I believe the best way for me to do that would be to build a temple.”

After a few seconds, all that came out of Reimu was a single toneless “What.”

“Our temple will reject violence in pursuit of enlightenment.”

This was followed by an equally flat “Huh.”

“After everything I’ve seen, I’m confident that Buddhism has a place in Gensokyo. I know we’ll gain followers, and who knows, perhaps become the greatest Buddhist temple on either side of the barrier! Yes, the great… Oh dear, every temple needs a name, what should this one be…”

“How about the ‘Not Gonna Happen Temple’?” Reimu folded her arms and sneered. “What, you don’t like it?”

Byakuren fell silent, but her soft expression told Reimu that the woman’s mind was on something other than the taunt.

“Oh, but that might be too presumptuous…” Reimu had the distinct feeling that this was not about her own suggestion. “Miss Reimu, what do you think? Should I name the temple after my brother?”

For the third time that morning, Reimu found herself gaping silently at the woman’s incomprensible words.

For once, Byakuren sensed the need for an explanation. “Did they not tell you? The flying fragments that they needed to break the seal in Makai, and even the seal itself, those were all imbued with my younger brother’s magic. That same magic is also what keeps the Sacred Palanquin afloat, though the ship has extra properties that allow Murasa to control it as well.”

Reimu’s brain began slowly defrosting at the mention of familiar events. “I don’t remember anything about any brother. And weren’t you the one who brought the ship out of Makai?”

“Yes, using the levitation magic I learned from my brother. Or, well, acquired, from living in the wooden granary that was filled with his magic. The fragments you collected are actually pieces of that granary.”

“I thought you said you lived in a temple?” Reimu was suddenly determined to find a hole in the story, the better to convince Byakuren to back off this stupid temple idea entirely.

“Yes, I did, with my youkai companions long after my brother had passed. While he was still alive, I lived with him in the granary so that we could reserve our temple for training and worship.”

Reimu cackled in triumph. “Didn’t you just say that the seal on you was filled with your brother’s power? Getting hard to keep the details of your story straight, isn’t it?”

After taking a few seconds to determine what Reimu meant, Byakuren shook her head and said, “Oh, no, please don’t misunderstand. I was sealed nearly a hundred years after my brother died, and the only reason the Makai seal had my brother’s magic is because my assailants took the core of that magic—the converted granary—out of the ship when they sealed my companions, and then used the compatibility between his magic and mine to facilitate my own sealing. In all honesty it was a masterful move, and I would have expected no less from the parties involved.” Byakuren’s eyes held an unfamiliar emotion that nonetheless caused Reimu to deflate at the sight of them, and the shrine maiden quickly turned away.

“Save the sob story for when I have enough alcohol in me to pretend to care.” Reimu’s tone had lost its usual bite. “Does it really have to be a temple, though?” Now she sounded downright defeated. “Wouldn’t a plain old granary make a better tribute to your brother? Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, turn your ship back into one?”

“Actually, Miss Reimu, I was planning to do just that.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! We’ll turn the ship back into a granary, and then renovate the granary into the Myouren Temple!”

“Oh come on!”

“Solves your problem and mine, right?”

Between the wink that reminded Reimu all too much of that irritatingly gregarious ship ghost, and the sound of her own words thrown right back at her in an infuriatingly good-natured tone, the shrine maiden found herself once again in gasping-fish mode, until at last she managed a strangled noise that eventually formed itself into a “Fine!”

“You wanna solve my problem with your boat by building a freaking temple, then go ahead! Name it after your brother, your aunt, or your third cousin twice-removed for all I care! Just build it and stay there!” Reimu fixed Byakuren with a burning stare. “But if you seriously plan on adding to my list of religious rivals, don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you tossed me some cash! Even the Moriya bunch can’t keep up with me, and there’s three of them!”

Byakuren chuckled at the sight of the shrine maiden back in her element. “I can certainly understand your rivalry with another Shinto shrine that also specializes in youkai extermination”—the barest hint of a wry smile—“but I think it’s pretty clear that I have no plans to compete with you in that regard, and will in fact be doing the exact opposite, by extending the hand of salvation to all those poor youkai oppressed by the shrine maidens…” The last sentence finished with a half-giggle that set Reimu’s teeth back on edge after her cathartic outburst.

“If you’re done wasting my morning,” Reimu drew the words out slowly, “would you kindly go back to minding your own damn business on your stupid boat—granary—temple—thing?” The mention of the boat reminded Reimu of her donation box’s unusual status, and she added with visible effort, “Hell, take your money back with you for all I care, if it means I won’t ever have to listen to your crap again!”

Byakuren laughed and shook her head. “Keep the money, Miss Reimu. I’ll try not to take up so much of your time in the future. Please take care, and have a good day!”

Reimu muttered a sarcastic imitation of Byakuren’s parting words at the latter’s retreating figure. Leave it to that damn woman to do the impossible of getting the shrine maiden’s day off to a bad start with a full donation box. What the hell was she actually supposed to do with all this money, anyway? Other than let Marisa steal it, which was out of the question.

As Byakuren passed back through the Hakurei torii, she recalled Reimu’s mention of the Moriya shrine, and wondered if Sanae had made it safely back home after all this time. Once the plans for the temple were settled, perhaps a visit to Youkai Mountain was in order.


	3. Big Damn Heroine

Nearly a week after her return from Makai, Kochiya Sanae was still reluctant to disclose the details of her trip to her shrinemates. Had they simply been the imposing Yasaka Kanako and wily Moriya Suwako, ancient goddesses in whose names Sanae served and on whose powers she depended, she could have mustered the courage to vow to them with full conviction that she would redouble her efforts and do justice to their greatness henceforth. But they were also her family, and all her favorite shows had taught her that the combined power of faith and love should have been more than enough to let her single-handedly swoop in and save the day. Yet not only had she failed to do so, but she had needed saving herself, a fact reflected in lingering traces of the haunted look that she had brought back with her days ago.

Days ago, a voice as warm as it was imperious had boomed out “Welcome back, Sanae!” as the girl had trudged through the shrine gates, and then the fading twilight had disappeared behind the towering silhouette of a woman wreathed by a massive circle of thick braided cord. Dressed in commanding crimson, the woman took long, steady strides toward Sanae as a frog-eyed straw hat attached to a purple dress bounced into view from behind the woman’s skirt.

“Didja bring back any souvenirs?” From beneath the hat came the cheerful chirp of the ancient ancestor who could have passed for Sanae’s younger sister.

Sanae turned toward the two goddesses but refused to meet their eyes. “L-Lady Kanako, Lady Suwako…” she mumbled with a hasty bow before fleeing in the direction of the house.

Kanako raised an eyebrow and turned to Suwako. The latter and her hat returned the look with their usual enigmatic stares, but a tiny twist of the native goddess’s mouth revealed that she was just as puzzled. Kanako sighed.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw her come home like this.”

“Pretty sure it was when those bullies at school tricked her into believing that the last episode of Galactic Mega-Robo had already aired and her favorite character had died in the final battle.”

Kanako tutted at the memory with a small shake of her head. “Human children can be so cruel.”

The goddesses shared a brief silence.

“I’m going to check on her.”

“Right behind ya.”

Suwako paused at the genkan to note that Sanae had at least remembered to leave her shoes in the recessed entryway, and Kanako replied with a hint of pride that nothing would stop Sanae from scrupulously observing even the smallest proprieties when it came to the shrine.

The inside of the house was as silent as it was dark until a rustle came from the bedroom, where the goddesses found what remained of Sanae curled into a moonlight-pale pile of tangled green hair and rumpled shrine maiden garb on an unmade futon askew on the tatami mats.

“Well, almost nothing,” Suwako quipped as she and Kanako decided whether to spare the teenager’s uniform or her dignity. They had just settled on the uniform when Sanae shifted again, causing both goddesses to freeze—one halfway to grabbing pajamas and the other halfway to grabbing Sanae—until the sound of steady breathing resumed. No sooner had they lifted the girl off the cotton mattress than she thrashed violently, and the goddesses caught the words “no” and “home” as they dodged flailing limbs. The released Sanae curled into an even tighter ball, shivering visibly despite still being dressed in the comfortably insulated room. After many more minutes of silent observation, Kanako and Suwako thought they heard “home” again, followed several seconds later by what might have been “please”.

Kanako sat back, furrowed her brow, and sighed. “What’s your best guess?” As much as she hated ceding authority, the goddess who understood humans only in terms of industry and faith had no choice but to defer to the expertise of the goddess who had produced a long line of humans leading up to the girl in question.

Suwako looked down in thought, and her hat slid over her face. Kanako once again found herself under the oversized accessory’s unblinking regard.

“Hmm,” the hat said in Suwako’s voice. “I had kinda chalked it up to a combo of teenage hormones and first mission jitters, but on second thought…” Suwako pushed her hat up, relieving Kanako of the unsettling gaze. “I’m gonna pop out to the kitchen for a bit. See if you can get her up by the time I get back.”

“Suwako, that’s not—”

“Bye!”

Kanako rose to follow, then sat back down. She could at least spare this much trust for the former foe who had now been her partner for nearly two thousand years. The distant rustle of rice and clatter of cookware reassured her of Suwako’s honesty, though she could only guess at what the other goddess was planning. Two thousand years had somehow still not been enough time to figure Suwako out. Lost in her thoughts, Kanako absently reached out to stroke Sanae’s hair.

The wait turned out to be long enough that Kanako spent half of it napping and split the rest among ruminations, machinations, and a last-minute effort to rouse Sanae. Suwako returned to the sight of the storm goddess propping the groggy teen up into a half-sprawl. Kanako turned to see Suwako holding a tray with a jar, a spoon, and a small bowl wafting pungent steam. The former wrinkled her nose at the intensely bitter smell.

“Wait, so you think she’s ill? I don’t feel a fever.”

Suwako ignored her and set the tray down beside the futon before picking up the spoon and the bowl, oblivious to the scalding temperature. Kanako averted her head as the concoction approached, but the rising steam caught Sanae full in the face, prompting a whimper from the girl as her eyes watered and her mouth dried.

“Is that… my punishment?” Sanae pushed the words out past her sawdust tongue. Between the dim moonlight and the sleep still coating her eyes, she couldn’t make out the bowl’s contents.

“Punishment?” Kanako once again looked to Suwako for interpretation, but the latter simply grinned.

“That’s right! So you better take it, or else.” A devious gleam flashed in Suwako’s eyes, and Kanako was briefly reminded of the native goddess’s dual nature as a ruler of curses.

Sanae did not catch the expression, but her sense of duty sufficed. “Understood,” she mumbled. She made a dazed attempt to reach for the spoon, only for her arms to drop back to her sides as she returned to slumping against Kanako.

Suwako blew gently on a spoonful of what Kanako at last recognized as gruel boiled in herbs before bringing it to Sanae’s mouth, and the girl obediently claimed the contents. As Suwako held the spoon, she caught Kanako’s eye, and for a moment both were transported back to a similar scene involving much tastier gruel but a much smaller and less cooperative Sanae.

A long, strained gulp returned their attention to the present, and Kanako felt Sanae’s fingers tighten around her own. The girl’s labored breathing reeked of the medicinal soup, but the only way to avoid it was to release her, so Kanako settled for commiserating. Suwako snickered at the matching grimaces on her companions’ faces as she readied another spoonful. Scoop after scoop, bite after bite, Sanae bore her treatment without complaint even as her eyes and nose streamed. Eventually even Suwako found more pathos than humor in the teen’s valiant martyrdom, and granted Sanae the mercy of reaching a dangling white sleeve up to dry her face before suddenly pinching her nose and tilting the remainder of the gruel into her open mouth.

“Suwako!” Kanako’s hiss of consternation coincided with a smothered yelp from Sanae that devolved into a coughing fit, spraying bitter liquid in all directions.

Suwako merely smiled and mopped up the worst of the mess with her other sleeve before reaching for the jar and tipping some of its thick contents into the spoon. A sugary, floral fragrance cut through the gruel’s lingering odor, and Kanako spotted a hint of amber in the spoon’s contents.

“Wildflower honey?”

Suwako nodded as she offered Sanae the spoon.

“I thought—” Sanae was interrupted by another cough. “—this was… supposed to be… punishment?” She wheezed out the words as one last cough escaped.

“It was!” Suwako grinned. “And now it’s over, so eat this and get changed out of that”—Suwako gestured to Sanae’s soup-spattered clothes—“so you can sleep for real.”

Between the imminent delicious reprieve and the promise of real sleep, Sanae needed no second bidding. Finally awake enough to sit up on her own, she took the spoon from Suwako and downed the honey in a single gulp, then finished off the drops stuck to the spoon and the side of her mouth. Kanako used this time to retrieve the pajamas, and held them out to Sanae as the latter returned the spoon to Suwako.

“I assume you’d prefer to change yourself.” Kanako raised an eyebrow at the girl, who responded with a flustered nod as she snatched up the bedclothes. The two ancient goddesses took this as their cue to leave.

“Perhaps now you can tell me what that was all about?” They were back in the kitchen, and Kanako had no intention of allowing Suwako to leave without an answer.

Suwako did not look up from rinsing the dishes. “What was what about?”

Kanako rolled her eyes. “Now is really not the time, Suwako. I’m worried about her, and if you have any idea what’s wrong, you need to tell me.”

“Hmm,” was all Suwako said.

“Moriya Suwako…” Kanako’s voice was stretched as taut as her patience.

Suwako moved on to drying. “You really think I’d keep something like that from you?”

“If you aren’t, then why are you being so evasive? I’m aware you frogs are a slippery lot, but this—”

“For the millionth time, I’m not a frog,” Suwako said. “I just like them.”

“See? You’re still being—”

“And I’m not being evasive. I just figured we should wait for Sanae to tell us herself.”

“Wait, so you don’t know what’s going on with her? Then what was the gruel for?”

“Empty stomach and bad dreams make for bad sleep, and bad sleep makes for a tired, grumpy Sanae who won’t tell us what we want to know.” Suwako shrugged.

Kanako’s eyes narrowed. “So those were sedative herbs. How do you know she won’t have more nightmares once she’s asleep?”

Suwako put the clean dishware back in its place. “Because she’ll be sleeping—” The ruler of curses had resurfaced, along with her amphibian stare. “—like the dead.”

Kanako answered with her own serpentine gaze. “What did you put in it.”

Few things were as endearing to Suwako as her old friend’s incurable habit of phrasing questions as commands, and the native goddess’s cold-blooded leer immediately gave way to a spate of giggles. “Trade secret!” was all she said before leaping away to replace the soup and snot on her sleeves with mud from the nearest puddle.

The other goddess once again resisted her impulse to follow, and instead headed back to the bedroom, where a familiar bitter odor alerted her to the fact that Sanae’s shrine maiden clothes were sitting in a neatly folded pile just outside the doorway. Peering inside, she could see Sanae tucked snugly under the futon covers. The girl lay silent and still in the moonlight.

Perhaps a little too still. Kanako recalled Suwako’s words. Not that the native goddess would—or, for that matter, could—seriously harm her own blood, thought Kanako, but she had a remarkably liberal definition of harmless. Padding into the room, Kanako drew close enough to hear quiet breathing. Reassured, the goddess left with the soiled uniform. Laundry was never an issue when the elements were at her mercy instead of vice versa.

As she passed through the front door, she noted the moon’s position. Day would be breaking soon, which normally signaled the beginning of Kanako’s business with the other residents of the mountain. The tengu had once been nocturnal, but living in increasingly human-like communities had caused them to adopt increasingly human-like hours, and the kappa had always kept human hours due to their dietary preferences, with no reason to change after they switched from preying on flesh to preying on wallets.

Kanako hung the shrine maiden outfit on a line, then summoned a few rainclouds for a steady rinse. The rain in turn summoned a Suwako eager to abandon her half-dried travesty of a puddle for a fresh pool of gooey mud.

After what felt to Suwako like a criminally short amount of time, Kanako replaced the clouds with a stiff breeze that wove through and around the wet clothes until they were dry.

“Good to know that you can still take on your old job if Sanae... croaks.” Suwako cackled.

A sidelong glare and stern clearing of the throat were all that Kanako offered in response as she took down the uniform and began to fold it. Suwako continued to splash vigorously in her dwindling pool as her companion reentered the house and the first pale fingers of light stretched over the horizon.

“Good morning, Lady Kanako!”

The familiar cheerful enthusiasm reached Kanako a split second before she registered the sleep-tousled figure standing on the elevated area just behind the genkan.

“Ah, Sanae. It’s good to see you up. Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm!” The girl stretched comfortably.

“Course she did!” Suwako bounded in. As soon as she turned to scold Suwako about tracking mud into the house, Kanako saw that there was no need, as the native goddess’s power over earth apparently extended to the kind that was—or in Suwako’s case, had been—stuck on clothes.

“Lady Suwako! Good morning!”

“Morning Sanae! I see my soup worked.”

“Soup…?” Sanae took a moment to search her hazy recollection of last night’s events. “Oh, uh… Yeah. I mean, thank you! I think?”

The sky was growing lighter, and Kanako was still hoping to make her first appointments of the day. “So, Sanae. What exactly happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday...?" Sanae's face wrinkled in confusion.

"After we sent you out on your first real mission in Gensokyo." Kanako watched the girl's face smooth back out as realization dawned.

"Oh! Right, that, uh… Well…” Sanae suddenly began glancing off to the side, and her wandering eyes caught sight of the shrine maiden uniform in Kanako’s hands. “Could I, umm, tell you after I get myself cleaned up and changed? S-So that I’m not late to the village...” She trailed off nervously.

Kanako raised an eyebrow, but found it a reasonable enough request and handed the clothes over with a nod. Sanae gave a hasty bow and vanished into the bathroom, from which the sound of running water soon issued. Kanako took a moment to wonder whether the girl who was technically a goddess herself ever resented the inconveniences of the human body she had been born into as opposed to merely adopted for appearance’s sake.

“Well, seems like the old Sanae’s back. Mostly.” Kanako had returned from her very brief visit to the realm of idle curiosity.

“You’re welcome.”

Kanako’s brow furrowed. “Seriously, what did you give her?”

“Like I said, trade secret.”

The furrowed brow was joined by a frown. Suwako heaved a tragic sigh.

“You’ve already got everything the humans pray for up in the sky, and now you wanna take what’s left from little old me down in the dirt? Even after I letcha swipe my shrine?” She and her hat offered Kanako their best wide-eyed protest.

The corner of Kanako’s mouth twitched. “We share it.”

Suwako winked. “The rest of your brain’s already full up with all that business and tech stuff anyway.” She watched as Kanako’s frown began to invert itself.

“As if there were any limit to my capacity for knowledge,” Kanako said with an audible smile. “Besides—” She returned Suwako’s wink. “—You’re no slouch at tech yourself when you feel like it.”

A fully-dressed Sanae walked in on the two goddesses grinning at each other. Sanae grinned too. Then Kanako turned to her, and her grin shrank to a small smile.

“Well, Sanae,” Kanako said. “Are you ready to tell us what happened now?”

What remained of Sanae’s smile froze on her face as she immediately looked to Suwako for rescue, but the other goddess merely shrugged. Instead, Sanae’s stomach saved her with a loud growl.

“C-Can I—May I make breakfast first?” Sanae’s enormous pleading eyes cemented her family resemblance to Suwako. Kanako sighed.

“Yes, you may. But you’re going to tell us while we eat.”

The teenager barely had time to nod as she bolted for the kitchen. The edge of the sun was now clearly visible over the horizon. Kanako was going to be late after all.

As soon as they were all seated, however, Sanae began stuffing her face with an alacrity that prevented conversation. Suwako cheerfully began helping herself as well, but Kanako’s food remained untouched as her patience dwindled along with the contents of Sanae’s bowl.

“Sanae…” Kanako’s voice was low with warning. Sanae choked on her last bite and had to guzzle tea to wash it down. She then took a deep breath to recover before speaking.

“R-Right, so, what happened was—” She immediately interrupted herself to pick up the empty dishes. “Let me just get these washed—”

“You can talk while you do that.”

“O-Of course, Lady Kanako. So, um, I left the shrine pretty early, right? And uh, I went looking for that ship that everyone was talking about, that we also saw, because you thought there might be youkai on it for me to practice hunting and Lady Suwako thought there might be some nice treasure on it too.” Sanae paused to put the clean dishes back.

“We know that much. And then?” Satisfied that Sanae was now talking, Kanako at last began to eat.

“And then, uh… Oh, right, I thought I saw the ship again, or something that might have been it, and it seemed to be heading in the direction of the Hakurei Shrine—”

Kanako grunted and muttered something under her breath about “that shrine”.

“—And so I went there, and Reimu was there, and so was Marisa, and, umm…”

The only sound in the silence was the clink of chopsticks against ceramic as Kanako put down her half-finished bowl. “And? Continue.”

“And, well, uhh… I’m—I’m not sure I can remember everything that happened, or the order it happened… At least not right now…” Sanae’s statement was mostly true, which allowed her to look Kanako in the eyes as she spoke.

Sunlight was now streaming through the windows, and Kanako could not afford to fall any further behind schedule. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll give you some time to get your story straight. But sooner or later I will hear the full explanation. And for your own sake, let it be sooner.”

“Y-Yes ma’am!” The moment she had Kanako’s permission to leave, Sanae scrambled for the door and nearly tripped over the genkan into the pile of shoes. She hopped from one foot to the other as she put hers on, then raced across the shrine grounds.    

“I’ll tell you the rest soon! I promise!” Sanae called back as she scampered past the giant red posts of the torii.

Kanako waited until Sanae had disappeared from sight before expelling a very frustrated breath.

“Do you really think she’ll tell us?”

“Has she ever broken a promise to us?”

“Not that I can recall, but this… Something about this feels different, feels off.”

“Doesn’t feel different to me.”

Kanako sighed again. “Do you think she’ll be willing to talk by dinnertime?”

“Beats me.”

“Suwako.”

Suwako shrugged. “Just because I’m sure she’ll talk doesn’t mean I know when she’ll do it.”

Kanako appeared to contemplate the ground. When she looked back up, her pupils had narrowed to slits. “She gets until the end of the week at the very most. No more.”

“Sheesh. Patient, arentcha.”

“That’s more than generous.” The storm goddess’s tone was as cold and reptilian as her eyes. “And there is such a thing as too much patience.”

Suwako met the look unflinchingly, then cocked her head to one side and said, “Bet those tengu feel the same way right now.”

Kanako broke their gaze with an irritated grunt. “I was just about to leave.” She gave the papers in her hand a last once-over before striding across the shrine grounds and out the gate.

Suwako waved from the other side of the torii. “Take care have fun buh-bye!”

At dinner that night, Sanae was willing to talk about everything except what had happened the day before. Kanako was halfway to demanding an answer when she caught Suwako’s glance and stopped, recalling the morning’s exchange. Sensing that she had dodged a bullet but unwilling to push her luck, Sanae immediately rose and offered to wash the dishes. Kanako nodded and waved her off before turning to stare pointedly at Suwako. Suwako and her hat stared back.

“I’m serious.”

“Really?”

“Dead serious.”

“Might wanna get that checked out.”

“Week’s. End.”

Oblivious to the content of the conversation, Sanae merely noted that the other two appeared to be preoccupied and took the chance to slink off to the bedroom—which was functionally her own room—as soon as she’d put away the dishes. She made a beeline for the closet and pulled out the futon, then proceeded to make much ado about shaking it out, fluffing it up, and laying it neatly on the tatami mats, all the while casting nervous glances at the doorway. The instant she finished slipping into her pajamas, she dove under the covers and waited. The sooner they checked in on her, the sooner she could relax and try to sleep for real. She fell asleep waiting for footsteps that never came.


End file.
